


Better Than None

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (implied/minor), Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, Harry Styles has a pain kink, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, POV Harry Styles, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sub Harry, Subspace, Voyeurism, lots of implied harry/others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:12:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: Harry just needs to feel wanted, and Ben can give him that. All Ben needs is a little bit of a push.





	Better Than None

**Author's Note:**

> So this came from late night ideas being exchanged in a group chat & very quickly spiraled out of control to be twice the length I thought it would be, which is impressive considering this is literally just thematic porn. Ben is kind of mean to Harry for most of the initial stuff but Harry is also being pretty shitty. Tagged for dubcon because most of what happens is not negotiated properly beforehand.
> 
> If you wanna see more stuff from me or chat feel free to check me out on Twitter: @TerranAlleen & @vondrostes

It started like this:

Harry had ended up in Ben’s attic for a variety of reasons, most of which made him so angry that he would burst into tears right on the spot if he even thought about them, so they didn’t talk about it. Ben was good like that. He always knew how to pretend the elephant in the room wasn’t there.

But sometimes Harry didn’t want him to pretend.

The first time it happened wasn’t intentional in the slightest.

Harry always slept naked. And when he’d had his own flat—and even in the one he’d shared—he was naked more often than not even when he wasn’t in bed. That changed, obviously, when he came to stay at the Winstons’, mostly because Meri didn’t deserve to be subjected to the sight of his willy flopping around while Harry was hoovering or making dinner.

Harry didn’t really give a shit if Ben saw him starkers, since he’d already seen him and the rest of the boys in just their pants anyway, but as a consequence of Meri’s presence, Harry made sure to actually dress himself when he was at home and outside of the confines of the attic.

But sometimes there wasn’t enough motivation for clothes, like when it was half-three in the morning and Meri and Ben were both in bed, and all Harry wanted was a quick snack from the kitchen before he passed out. It would have been easy enough to throw on a pair of boxers at the very least, but Harry didn’t _want_ to. He wanted to be naked again, to feel like he was at home, instead of trapped in his director’s fucking attic feeling alone and unwanted.

He didn’t anticipate Ben walking into the kitchen and flicking the light on as he was standing at the counter spreading marmalade on toast. “Harry?” he said in surprise, voice still sleep-rough and raspy.

Harry whirled around automatically to face him, only remembering when it was too late to do anything about it that there was absolutely nothing covering his dick, and now Ben had an eyeful. At three in the morning. In his own kitchen.

“Oh, er….” Harry wasn’t sure if he should be trying to cover himself, or if that would just make things worse. “I was on my way to bed,” he said lamely.

Ben sighed. “Just make sure you clean up after yourself when you’re finished,” he told Harry before turning on one heel and sweeping out of the kitchen, his sleep robe fluttering out like a royal cape behind him.

Harry stared after him wide-eyed, trying to figure out if he’d imagined the semi Ben had been sporting in his pyjama bottoms. He went to bed hard and aching for something he didn’t know how to ask for.

The second time it happened couldn’t have been more different.

The movie production was in full swing, which meant that Harry was spending a lot of time with Ben and not a lot of time getting laid, and presumably the same was true for the older man, whose eyes seemed to trail Harry of their own accord every time he stripped down to hop on the treadmill or do a few yoga poses before he needed to get back to work.

Sometimes when Ben barked orders at Harry, he would go all red in the face, and Harry knew it was because of the way he got all glassy-eyed and flushed whenever Ben told him what to do. He just couldn’t help it.

What he could help was the way that he loudly jerked off in Ben’s attic the night before their O2 show, letting himself yowl like a cat in heat when he finally came and wondering if this would be the night that Ben finally broke and ended up in Harry’s bed to shut him up with his cock instead.

It wasn’t.

But Harry still got a kick out of Ben’s dark circles when he woke Harry up the next morning to film the bit of him in bed. Harry couldn’t keep the grin off his face either as he stretched languidly against the duvet, fully aware of the fact that he hadn’t showered yet and probably still smelled like sweat and come.

Ben’s face was perfectly blank as they finished up, giving away nothing at all. It only made Harry more determined.

It only got worse from there.

Harry wasn’t used to being denied, and he wasn’t used to going without regular mind-blowing sex either. He was desperate. And young, and stupid, and horny enough to crawl into Ben’s fucking bed one afternoon while Meri was off on a weekend trip with her girlfriends.

He had one leg tangled in the sheets, the other bent at the knee so he could get his fingers inside himself while he buried his face in Ben’s pillow, desperately trying to breathe him in. Getting off wasn’t the goal though. Harry knew exactly when Ben was due home and had planned everything out to the very second.

Harry didn’t jump to cover himself when the door abruptly opened fifteen minutes into a rather leisurely wank, but his fingers curled inside himself reflexively, yanking a moan out of his throat just as Ben walked into the room.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Ben asked from the open doorway.

Harry craned his neck up just enough to get a good look at him. He seemed a little flushed, but that could’ve been from his jog. There were sweat stains down the front of his t-shirt and under his arms. Harry couldn’t tell if he was hard or not in his black gym shorts.

Harry choked out another loud gasp before answering. He couldn’t help but jam his fingers into his arse even harder as he yanked on his cock. Even just knowing that Ben was there, watching him, had him close to coming all over the sheets. All Harry needed was a little bit of a push. And maybe that’s all Ben needed as well.

Harry spread his legs wantonly, making sure that Ben could see every inch of him as he offered himself up like some kind of incubine temptation, a gift wrapped up real pretty in pristine white sheets—if only Ben would take it. Harry whined louder and pressed deeper in some vain hope that it would trigger Ben’s primal instincts to fuck him, claim him.

Harry wanted Ben inside him more than he’d wanted anything in his whole life; or at least, that’s how it felt right then with Ben’s eyes scouring his naked skin as he moaned and writhed with nothing but his own fingers stuffing him full, not enough, could never be enough.

When Ben finally moved, it wasn’t toward the bed or the door, but instead a side-step over to the bureau against the wall facing Harry.

Harry’s fingers stilled, his head tilting up in a mixture of curiosity and confusion as Ben reached into the drawer and began to rummage around. He pulled out something bright purple and tossed it onto the bed without giving Harry a chance to figure out what it was before the object came hurtling toward him. It landed with a soft thump between Harry’s spread knees, but Harry didn’t have enough time to draw his fingers out of himself to investigate before Ben was speaking again, making him freeze up as a reflex.

“Make sure you wash the sheets after you’re done,” Ben said impassively, reminding Harry of the very first encounter that had started all this months ago. Then he walked out, leaving Harry lying there in the sweat-damp sheets, still hard and aching with want.

He sat up slowly and glanced down at the object Ben had tossed on the bed. Harry’s stomach clenched hard when he realised what it was. A fucking _vibrator_? Meri’s vibrator? And he was what—just supposed to use it to get himself off?

Harry’s face burned as he stared through the open doorway, toward the sitting room at the end of the corridor where he could hear the sounds of a footie match coming from the TV. If he was loud enough, maybe Ben could still hear him from the sofa. Maybe he was waiting for Harry to put on a show, for Harry to prove himself.

Harry scrambled to grab the vibrator, high on the idea that if he was good enough, Ben might come back and replace it with his cock instead. He shoved the vibrator into himself with zero hesitation, groaning at the stretch and the friction. Harry let his head flop back against the pillows as he carefully moved the slim bit of plastic in and out of himself, getting used to the feeling for a moment and making sure it was nudging gently against his prostate before finally twisting the base of the vibrator as far as it would go.

He screamed: a throaty, inhuman yell that must’ve been loud enough that the neighbours could hear. Ben had definitely heard. But when Harry’s voice faded into a trailing gasp, the sound of the TV was still emanating from the living room, even louder now, and Ben was nowhere to be seen.

Harry sobbed into the pillow as he yanked on his cock, hard enough to hurt. He wasn’t even fucking the vibrator really, just grinding it into his prostate until he felt shivery and full and almost dizzy with pleasure. He was incoherent by the time he felt his cock leaking onto the duvet, too much to be pre-come, and when he looked down at himself he realised the vibrator was literally milking the come out of him without even an actual orgasm to accompany it.

His thoughts drifted to Ben’s fingers in its place, holding him down with one hand while the other one milked him dry, and then Harry was coming—breathless and rigid as his cock jumped against his belly, arse clamping down on the shaft of the vibrator so hard it hurt.

It took him nearly ten minutes to extricate himself from the Winstons’ marital bed, and in all that time, the sounds coming from the TV never paused. Ben didn’t come to check on Harry even when he stripped the bed with tears of frustration stinging his eyes, or when he stomped loudly down the hall to the laundry room still completely starkers.

Putting the come and lube-stained sheets in the Winstons’ washing machine was mortifying. Harry didn’t try that stunt again. But it didn’t mean he’d given up altogether.

Ben refused to make it easy though.

He ignored Harry like it was his job to do so, only engaging with him when they were at work or with Meri, and even then, he was cooler than ever in his interactions. It only left Harry wanting more.

One time when Ben and Meri left the house and Harry was still stuck there, hiding from the world, he couldn’t help himself and went searching in the Winstons’ drawers for Meri’s vibrator. He didn’t find it though. Instead of the smooth purple one Ben had thrown at him to use on himself, Harry found a brand-new rabbit vibe in turquoise blue, and he realised with a face full of burning shame that Ben must have thrown out the last one after Harry had used it.

That made him even hornier somehow, for some reason, and a simple wank with his fingers up his arse just wasn’t going to cut it. Harry paced the house desperately, almost near tears with how badly he needed to be full, so desperate that he ended up ransacking the Winstons’ refrigerator until he found a slim squash in one of the drawers.

It was small enough that he knew it would fit inside him, and textured enough to make it interesting, as if the thought of using Ben’s groceries for dinner that night wasn’t enough to have his brain fizzling out already.

It was worth it once Harry had come so explosively he’d painted his jaw in white, even though the look Ben had given him later that night when Meri searched through the fridge for the squash she knew she’d bought made his face burn so hot he thought he might combust.

He invested a few hundred pounds in sex toys that night and hoped the urge wouldn’t strike him for at least the next few days. Harry pointedly ignored the look on Ben’s face when he dumped the packages on Harry’s bed, the slant to Ben’s eyes telling him that the older man knew exactly what Harry was up to. He pretended he hadn’t been desperately hoping that Ben would be curious enough to try what Harry had bought on the boy himself.

Nothing changed at all in the next few months. Harry was still trying to cope with the fact that Ben would barely look at him or speak to him, and all the while he was still going crazy with need, fucking himself loudly from the attic just to spite the older man whenever he had the chance.

But nothing seemed to work.

And none of it made Harry feel any better either, and he knew now that that’s why he was really doing this, not because of the sex, but because he needed to be wanted.

Ben didn’t want him. No one did.

Things finally escalated without Harry really intending for them to go anywhere at all. Well, he’d meant to get laid that night after the party, but Ben hadn’t been the target of his ill-thought out seduction. It hadn’t ended well.

He’d gotten the ecstasy from Zayn, who had gotten it from someone else, and Zayn had seemed keen enough on taking it, so Harry hadn’t really seen the harm in following suit. It was nearly an hour later that Harry remembered why he only barely drank at these sorts of things, because while Zayn was cackling madly in his ear chatting up a couple of girls, Harry could hardly walk or see two feet in front of him, and he sort of felt like he was going to explode out of his pants.

Unfortunately, their bodyguards had disappeared to rein in Louis and Liam, who had nearly been kicked out of the VIP section already, which left Harry little recourse for escaping to his room.

So he called Ben, half-out of his mind with need and sweating from the embarrassment of having to hide his hard cock in his skinnies from the girls who wouldn’t leave their booth, both of them now draped all over Zayn.

“Harry?”

“Need you to come get me,” Harry whispered into his phone. His eyes were welling up with tears even though there was no reason for it. Ben hadn’t even had the opportunity to reject him yet.

“Why? Where’s Kevin and—and the other one?”

If Harry had been in a better mind it would have annoyed him that Ben couldn’t remember their bodyguards’ names, but right then all he cared about was escaping the stifling atmosphere of the VIP lounge.

“I don’t know,” he said, practically whimpering. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible for him to feel more pathetic. He needed to get out of there before someone noticed what a mess he was, started taking photos or worse. “Please.”

“You’re still in the lounge?” Ben asked with a short sigh.

“Yeah.”

“Well, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be down in a minute.”

It was more than a minute before Ben finally made his way to where Harry was trapped inside the VIP lounge, and by that time, he’d melted into a human puddle right there on the seat, shivering at the assault of overwhelming sensory information bombarding his brain as he tried to remain in the foetal position. His legs were too long; he couldn’t quite make it work.

“Harry?”

He made an attempt to sit up and almost keeled over in the process. Only Ben’s steady hands reaching out to grip his shoulders kept Harry from spilling out of the booth entirely.

“Shit, is he okay?” Zayn’s voice.

“No thanks to you.” That was out of character for Ben. Usually the only person he was ever less than polite to was Harry himself. “Come on, love.” The endearment was also new, but Harry supposed he must have looked more than pathetic as Ben carefully extracted him from the booth. “Oh,” he said suddenly as Harry stumbled onto his feet.

It took only a single glance downwards for Harry to realise that he was still very visibly hard in his jeans, and that Ben must have noticed. “Don’t feel good,” he mumbled, but it wasn’t a nauseating sickness, rather an itch under his skin that he couldn’t seem to get rid of, a frantic throbbing in his skull and his cock.

“Here,” Ben said, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around Harry in one fluid movement. “Just try to….” He gestured vaguely.

Harry wasn’t so out of his mind that he couldn’t recognise the need to keep himself covered, and he nodded in acknowledgement, tugging the hem of the jacket down just enough to shield his crotch from prying eyes.

Ben kept a steady hand on Harry’s shoulder as he steered him out of the lounge and to the lifts. Harry slumped against the far wall once they were inside, panting lightly as his body fought to cool itself down.

“What did you take?” Ben asked, giving Harry a quick once-over.

Harry blinked owlishly at him. “Zayn gave me some ecstasy. I think.” He didn’t feel bad about snitching. Ben wouldn’t tell anyone about it, and he didn’t care enough to tell Zayn off himself.

“I see.”

There was no audible judgment in Ben’s tone, but Harry felt himself flush a little in embarrassment anyway. He closed his eyes as the lift shot up toward the higher floors in their hotel, only opening them again when the doors opened with a quiet ding. Ben was even closer then, and Harry was vaguely aware that his mouth had dropped open a little as he stared up at the older man.

“You’re dehydrated,” Ben told him as he pushed Harry gently into the corridor. “Come on.” He nudged Harry in the opposite direction of the rooms where he and the other boys were staying, instead guiding the unsteady boy to other end of the corridor and pausing just long enough to slide his keycard into the lock. “Go lay down,” Ben urged, and that was all the direction Harry needed.

He stumbled toward the single king-sized bed in the centre of the hotel room, collapsing onto it face first without removing either his trousers or boots.

It was a long moment before Ben finally joined him, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Harry’s head and tugging softly at Harry’s curls until the boy finally lifted his head.

“Drink,” Ben instructed, pressing the rim of an open water bottle to Harry’s lips.

Harry gulped it down gratefully, spilling some of the cold liquid down his front in his eagerness to consume it. He didn’t stop until Ben had the bottle tipped fully upside down over his face, the last dregs of its contents dripping into Harry’s mouth as he swallowed noisily.

“Better?” Ben asked.

Harry nodded and rolled over onto his back with a muted groan. It hadn’t helped the situation in his trousers any. He was so hard it hurt. “Need help,” he slurred, kicking his feet a little against the mattress. Like a baby.

Ben drew in a short breath, nostrils flaring as he leaned over to unbutton the fly on Harry’s jeans. Harry went totally pliant under Ben’s hands, afraid that even the smallest of movements would spook the older man.

He sucked his lower lip up into his mouth as his jeans—and edge of Ben’s knuckles—scraped lightly over his cock, still just as hard as ever where it was trapped against his hip by his briefs. He let out a soft whimper at the touch that went ignored by Ben, who was focused intently on peeling Harry’s jeans down his Bambi-legs with an unnervingly blank expression.

Once Harry’s boots and jeans had successfully made it to the floor, he reached up toward Ben with his arms, looking at him imploringly until Ben finally got the message.

“You’re not a child,” Ben remarked irritably as he leaned down to unbutton Harry’s shirt, already open nearly to the navel.

Harry seized his chance. “No,” he replied, the words still heavy on his tongue, “I’m not.” And then he reached out to grab Ben’s face with both his hands, connecting their mouths in a flash of slick wet heat

Ben responded for a brief second, maybe out of instinct more than anything else, but it was enough.

Harry fell back against the mattress panting heavily as he stared up at Ben, who still said nothing. “I need you,” he pleaded, hands flailing clumsily toward Ben’s, only to have them snatched out of reach.

“No, you don’t,” Ben said calmly. He moved further away from Harry, situating himself against the pillows, never once taking his eyes off the squirming boy on the other side of the bed.

“I need something,” Harry amended, reduced to begging now that the last shreds of his dignity had disappeared along with the clothes Ben had taken off him. “Please.”

“Take care of it yourself.”

The words hit Harry like a punch to the gut. He stared back at Ben with his mouth hanging just slightly ajar, not quite sure if he’d heard correctly until Ben’s eyes drifted down to Harry’s crotch a second later as he gave a little nod of encouragement.

Harry scrambled to yank his pants down his thighs, exposing his throbbing erection to the air with a pained groan. Even Ben winced a little in sympathy as Harry delicately wrapped a hand around himself, whimpering at the slightest pressure. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been like this, but it was long enough that he’d fully crossed the line between pleasure and pain, and now he just needed relief.

Some foolishly hopeful part of Harry thought that maybe when Ben saw his cock in his hand, just within easy reach, he’d finally break. That Ben was asking Harry to touch himself to make sure that this was really what Harry wanted from him and that he wasn’t about to take advantage of an emotionally vulnerable drugged-up nineteen-year-old craving any kind of attention. Later, Harry would realise just how stupid that was.

Harry would have settled, even, for a gentle touch against his hip or in his hair, something to ground him, but Ben gave him nothing at all.

Harry tried to keep the pace of his hand slow and even as he wanked, but before long he couldn’t control himself, too desperate with the need for relief to draw things out just to torture Ben. It only felt like he was torturing himself.

“Why won’t you fucking touch me?” Harry whined with his hand around his cock, practically in tears, and still Ben did nothing.

Just watched, distantly. Coldly. The only evidence of Harry’s effect on him the hard line of his dick in his pants, straining and untouched.

Harry wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch Ben as much as he wanted Ben to touch him, but he wouldn’t try to put Ben’s hands on him again.

Harry came with an aching cry and an answering hollowness in the centre of his torso, just behind the butterfly tattoo Ben had once told him was beautiful with two fingers tracing reverently over ink and skin.

Harry was dimly aware of Ben leaving the bed for a minute only to come back with a damp flannel. He carefully wiped down the come from Harry’s stomach before climbing back in, tugging the boy’s head into his lap with a soft sigh as he pulled the covers up around them.

Harry was too tired to consider the fact that his face was only centimetres away from Ben’s dick, and he tumbled quickly into unconsciousness with Ben’s fingers pressed gently against the nape of his neck.

When Harry woke up, his head was still in Ben’s lap, as cloudy with endorphins as it had been when he’d fallen asleep, and his cock was hard against Ben’s calf. He quickly came to the realisation that he must have been rutting against the man in his sleep, but now that he was awake, he couldn’t stop himself.

He breathed hotly against Ben’s thigh as he humped him frantically, like a dog. Ben remained asleep throughout Harry’s half-conscious movements, stirring only slightly as Harry pressed his nose into the groove where Ben’s groin and thigh met. Harry inhaled deeply and let out an unsuppressed moan as he dragged his mouth over the fabric covering Ben’s dick, semi-hard even in sleep.

Suddenly there were fingers in Harry’s hair, yanking sharply, and he was coming, just from the pain, shooting hot ropes against Ben’s leg and the hotel sheets.

“What the fuck, Harry?” Ben hissed, yanking the boy up against his chest.

“I just need—I can’t—” Harry knew he wasn’t making any sense, but Ben seemed to understand, a light coming on behind his stony expression.

And while Ben was still holding Harry by his hair as the boy squirmed and cried big fat tears of humiliation onto his t-shirt, he whispered in Harry’s ear: “Maybe when you’re older.”

If Ben thought his admonition would throw Harry off the scent, he was wrong.

There was a reprieve, of course. Harry had gotten the message that his advances were unwanted, at least for the time being. But his twentieth birthday was fast approaching, and he was more determined than ever before now to get what he wanted.

Maybe Ben wouldn’t fuck a teenager, Harry told himself, but he wouldn’t be a teenager for much longer.

Getting Ben alone was easy enough. He was the only one awake when Harry came stumbling home from his outing with his mum and sister at a pub, their belated birthday outing a necessary consequence of how much time Harry was spending in LA.

Harry wasn’t drunk when he unlocked the door to the Winstons’ house, careful not to wake Meri, who tended to go to sleep early in the evening, usually hours before Harry wandered back into their home to crash out in the attic if he wasn’t sleeping somewhere else.

In lieu of Ben, he’d started to seek out other company, and had told himself he wasn’t carefully monitoring the older man’s reactions to every girl he brought round for Meri to poke and prod at.

Ben was in the sitting room with a glass of whiskey watching the telly on low-volume when Harry walked in an immediately began shedding his clothes, pointedly ignoring Ben’s presence as he left a trail of designer fabric all the way to the kitchen.

Harry poured himself a glass of OJ at the fridge and downed it in one big swig. When he turned around, Ben was standing there in the doorway, staring at him blankly.

“You want some?” Harry offered, still clutching the jug of orange juice in one hand. He was offering more than that, though, and both of them knew it.

“Sure,” Ben replied, even though he still had whiskey at the bottom of his glass.

Harry wasn’t sure how much he was saying yes to, and he watched carefully as Ben meandered back into the sitting room before plopping down on the sofa once again. His hands were trembling as he poured Ben a fresh glass before taking it out to him, feeling strangely like a neglected housewife as he stood between Ben and the telly with the proffered glass in his outstretched hand.

Ben took it, drank, and said nothing. Harry didn’t move.

“You’re blocking the game,” Ben said quietly.

Harry stared him down unflinchingly. Ben took another sip of his juice and set the glass down on the table beside the sofa, never breaking eye contact with Harry all the while.

“When did you become such a bratty child?” Ben asked with a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He spread his legs a little, as if inviting Harry to step between them.

“I’m not,” Harry muttered, barely audible.

“What’s that?”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Harry mumbled a little louder, his voice laced with oxymoronic petulance.

Ben crooked an eyebrow in mock-amusement. “Is that so?” he asked sceptically.

Harry pushed into his space then to lay greedy kisses against the corner of Ben’s lips, trying to get him to respond. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t kiss Harry back either. “Want you,” Harry murmured needily, bracing himself with his palms against Ben’s thighs as he leant down again to connect their mouths.

Ben suddenly pushed Harry back with one hand. Harry bit down hard on his bottom lip, expecting another rejection.

“Okay,” Ben said instead.

“What?” Harry said without thinking, immediately wishing he could take it back when Ben’s expression soured with annoyance.

“I said, all right,” Ben answered. “Two should be enough.”

Harry’s brows creased down in bewilderment. “Two? Two what?” His face flushed in embarrassment as Ben continued to stare up at him without blinking. Nothing about this encounter was going the way he’d thought it might. He felt off-balance, like he’d literally fall over if Ben said the wrong thing.

“Two fingers,” Ben replied casually. It wasn’t until he extended his right hand toward Harry, his index and middle pointing straight out while the rest were folded down, that Harry caught on to what he was suggesting. “The lube’s in the bedroom with Meri, so you’ll have to get them wet yourself.

Harry’s knees nearly buckled. “But I thought—”

“I don’t care what you think.” Ben’s harsh tone sent a frisson of heat coursing through Harry’s middle. “Don’t you want your birthday present?”

Harry nodded eagerly, without even considering the ramifications of what he was agreeing to. He dropped to his knees only to have Ben pull him up again by his hair, longer now than it had been the last time the older man had his fingers in it.

The whine that emerged from Harry’s mouth was the same, though.

“Clothes off first,” Ben reminded him. “Want to be ready, don’t you?”

Harry nodded again. His head felt a little hazy, the way it usually did after really good sex, but he hadn’t even gotten off yet let alone been fucked. And at this rate, he probably never would, at least not with Ben.

He pulled off his clothes quickly, throwing them down at his feet without care for anything except getting the job done as quickly as possible. Once he was completely naked, Harry lowered himself onto his knees again and eagerly sucked Ben’s outstretched fingers, getting them sloppy with saliva until they were literally dripping.

If Harry hadn’t fucked himself with a dildo just before he’d gone to the pub, wanting to loosen himself up in preparation for later, he doubted he would have entertained the idea of letting Ben fuck him with his fingers using only spit as lube. But Ben must have known that Harry was ready to take him, he had to have the second Harry had come through the door.

Harry wondered if it would have changed things if he’d come home wearing the plug he’d briefly considered using before deciding it was overkill. Maybe Ben would have let Harry ride his cock if he’d thought that the boy could take it.

Too late for that now.

“Good?” Ben asked as Harry finally drew his mouth away from Ben’s soaking fingers.

Harry nodded and rose up on shaky legs. “How…?” he asked uncertainly, his cock finally starting to perk up in interest as it dangled at eye level with Ben, who gave it a cursory examination before glancing up again to meet Harry’s gaze.

“Want you to ride me,” he said, positioning his hand over his lap so all Harry had to do was lower himself down.

Harry’s face burned as he hovered over Ben’s fingers, feeling them probe wetly between his cheeks as he struggled to get them inside without falling over. Ben didn’t offer his help, but he didn’t protest either when Harry fisted a hand in the collar of his shirt to keep himself upright as he reached behind himself with the other, spreading himself open far enough that Ben’s fingers could reach their target.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut in concentration as he bore down, a little gasp escaping his lips when concentrated pressure suddenly gave way to the slick slide of both of Ben’s fingers sliding into him up to the last knuckle, too much and not enough all at once.

He clenched experimentally around Ben’s fingers as he settled into place against him, watching the man’s face carefully for any reaction. There was a flicker of something indecipherable, something that might have been want, or frustration. It was enough.

Harry closed his eyes as he lifted up and slowly sank back down, moving slow at first as he grew accustomed to the feeling, to the tension in his muscles, strained by the position Ben had put him in. There was an edge to it all that reminded Harry of some of the kinkier sex he’d experimented with in the past, the kind that involved him being suspended from the ceiling while someone opened him up from behind, leaving him helpless to escape or fight back.

Technically, Harry was in complete control of this, but it didn’t feel like that at all. It felt like he was carving out some of himself using Ben’s fingers. It felt like he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

That realisation had Harry moving faster, chasing an orgasm that he knew wouldn’t be enough. Harry couldn’t even touch his own cock like this, not with both his hands braced on Ben’s shoulders, using them as leverage to fuck down onto Ben’s hand.

His gasps were quickly morphing into dry sobs he had to struggle to keep quiet. The last thing he wanted was for Meri to wake up and find him impaled on her husband’s fingers in the middle of their sitting room.

“Can you come like this?” Ben asked quietly, the words tickling the shell of Harry’s ear as he rocked down harder into Ben’s hand.

His tone was softer now than it had been since before this thing started between them. Gone was the authoritarian façade that had been denying Harry for so many months. Harry knew if he said no that Ben would give him his hand, but Harry didn’t want to say no. He didn’t want to fail.

Harry nodded, angling his hips forward a few degrees so that the tip of his cock slipped against the silk fabric of Ben’s sleep shirt with every thrust of his hips.

The pressure against his cock alone wouldn’t be enough, but the feeling of Ben’s fingers splitting him open, grazing against his prostate with every movement, already had a knot of pressure coiling tight in the pit of Harry’s stomach. He knew it wouldn’t take him much longer to come, but part of him wanted to drag this out, because he knew now—this was all Ben was ever going to give him.

Harry came less than a minute later, back bowing as much as he could manage without wrenching Ben’s fingers out of him. His cock spurted onto Ben’s pyjamas, and when Harry was finally coherent enough to open his eyes again, he could see flecks of white dotting the exposed skin of Ben’s throat.

Harry whined at the sight, high and reedy in the back of his throat.

Ben stared impassively back. “Do you need help?” he asked.

Harry nodded, fists still clutched around Ben’s shirt. His grip tightened as Ben carefully eased his fingers out before wiping them down on the bottom of the shirt. Then Ben’s hands came up to encircle Harry’s wrists, gently prying them away from his shoulders as he stood. He spun Harry around and lowered him down onto the couch, slow and careful, his eyes searching Harry’s for any evidence of discomfort as the boy’s arse hit the cushions.

“Don’t move,” Ben instructed.

Harry nodded feebly and waited as Ben went into the kitchen. He heard the sink running, and then Ben was back with a flannel, shirtless now. He lifted Harry’s legs to wipe him down with practiced ease, like having Harry Styles lying fucked-out on his sofa was merely an every day occurrence. He moved to Harry’s softening cock next, ignoring the hiss Harry let out at the oversensitivity.

Ben was efficient, focused, and Harry was surprised when he suddenly sat down again in the same spot as before, this time pulling Harry’s feet into his lap as he reached for the remote to turn up the volume a bit more on the telly.

“You can sleep here a bit,” Ben told Harry without meeting his eyes. His thumbs pressed firmly into the arches of Harry’s feet, eliciting a quiet groan. “I’ll wake you up once the match’s done.”

“Okay,” Harry replied quietly. He turned his face toward the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, trying to forget everything that had just happened.

Harry learned his lesson after that.

Their relationship stabilised once Harry stopped trying to get into Ben’s trousers. They were friends again, better even than they’d been before Harry had thoroughly embarrassed himself when he’d been living in Ben’s attic, and then eventually he wasn’t living in Ben’s attic anymore, and the time they spent together was few and far between. Precious.

Harry would confide in the Winstons sometimes about his relationship troubles. They knew he had issues with commitment, knew that it was the price of the life he led, among other things, and they were never less than understanding. Sometimes Meri would look at Harry a certain way, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she knew about him, if Ben had told her, but Harry was always too afraid to ask.

The last thing Harry expected when he was in the back garden of their new LA home, chomping down eagerly on a rack of ribs Ben had barbecued—he was planning on trying a new veggie diet soon and this was his last farewell, so to speak—was for Meri to very pointedly bring up Harry’s teenage fascination with Ben as a _joke_.

“What?” he asked, flabbergasted. Harry wasn’t sure if it was a comfort that Ben looked every bit as shocked by Meri’s offhand comment.

“I said, I miss it,” she repeated, sounding a bit exasperated. “Watching you throw yourself at Ben all the time was always fairly entertaining. Watching the dailies reminded me.”

“Did he…?” Harry glanced at Ben. He couldn’t make himself say it, but Meri seemed to understand, which was answer enough.

“After you left,” Meri replied casually. She speared another hunk of chopped watermelon and popped it into her mouth. “Would you still want to?” she asked through the mouthful.

“Would I still want to what?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Sleep with Ben.”

Harry’s eyes darted to the man in question automatically, as if seeking his permission to answer, but Meri tutted at him disapprovingly. “I’m asking you, Harry, not him.”

Harry had had threesomes before, but never any with this much backstory leading up to them.

“Sure,” Harry replied slowly. “If the timing was right.”

“What’s wrong with now?” Meri asked him point-blank.

“We have the pilot—” Harry started to reply, but Meri cut him off with a dismissive wave.

“We have a couple hours before we have to leave,” Meri countered. “And you’re not a spotty little kid anymore.” She beamed at Harry, her smile a sharp contradiction to Ben’s carefully cool expression.

“Why don’t you head upstairs, Harry,” Ben suggested, finally breaking his self-imposed silence. “You should find everything you need in the nightstand.”

Harry nodded weakly and left his plate unfinished on the patio table, turning to head into the house without saying a word. Even after all this time, if Ben told Harry to jump, he wouldn’t even ask ‘how high’. He’d just obey.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was face down in the Winstons’ bed, naked and slicked up between his spread thighs. He wasn’t sure he could look Ben or Meri in the eye for this. And he was terrified that after half a decade of build-up, it wouldn’t take more than seeing Ben’s face as he pushed his cock inside Harry for the first time for Harry to come. He wanted this to last.

Meri was the first to walk in the room. Harry could tell from the soft patter of her feet against the floorboards, followed by Ben’s heavier steps. She leaned down next to him, her perfume wafting into his nose as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

“You all ready for us, baby?” Meri stroked her hands through Harry’s curls, and he preened under the attention.

“Yeah,” he said, slurring a bit. “Are you gonna…?”

She shook her head. “Just want to watch you,” she told him. “Do you mind if I film you, baby? It’ll be just for us, I promise.”

Harry knew he should say no, but it wouldn’t be the first sex tape featuring him to be floating around. He nodded, earning a pleasant smile from Meri in response.

“Want you to turn over on your back, if that’s okay.”

Harry hesitated for just a second before rolling over to face Ben, who just as quickly knelt down between Harry’s ankles at the foot of the bed. He scooted forward once their eyes met, propping himself up over Harry’s lax form.

“We can use a safeword, if you want,” Ben offered.

Harry was a little surprised. He’d assumed once Meri started in on her plan to get them together that the Winstons were obviously kinkier than he’d accounted for, but he didn’t think it extended quite that far.

“I’ll red out if I need to,” he replied confidently. He didn’t foresee himself taking that route, but it was a comfort to have the option.

Ben nodded in acknowledgment. “Ready, Meri?” he asked, looking over toward his wife, who had procured a camera from somewhere while the two men were otherwise preoccupied.

“Whenever Harry is,” she replied easily.

Ben turned back to Harry and quirked a questioning eyebrow. Harry answered by pushing up to kiss him, surging up hungrily into Ben’s mouth. Ben pushed him back down into the mattress after a few seconds and stared at Harry with clear consideration.

“Rather have you on top, if I’m honest,” Ben told him unexpectedly.

Harry looked over at Meri to check that she was all right with it, and she gave an encouraging nod.

“Yeah,” he told Ben, already lifting up on his elbows to switch positions. Ben’s hand against his stomach stopped him.

“Let me lead for now, all right?” Ben suggested, gently pressing Harry back down into the mattress until he was loose-limbed and pliant underneath the older man’s touch once more.

Harry nodded, his mind going instantly hazy as Ben’s fingers trailed over his sternum, past the stark black ink of his butterfly tattoo. He dipped a thumb into Harry’s navel, making him shiver, and then traced down the soft line of hair to his groin before leaning down to lick a hot wet stripe across Harry’s still mostly-soft cock.

Harry didn’t know if Ben had ever sucked cock before, but he wasn’t shy about pressing his face into Harry’s crotch, even if what he was doing was merely teasing rather than sucking. He licked at Harry like he was between a girl’s legs instead, and that realisation made Harry’s eyes roll back in his head a little bit.

Meri was right there at his side, camera still in hand even as she pressed a reassuring hand against his cheek. “Still all right, baby?” she asked.

When Harry’s eyes refocused, he saw that her camera was pointed at Ben’s mouth on his own dick, but as soon as Harry shifted to get a better look, Meri was backing away again, this time aiming the lens toward him.

Ben wrapped his lips gently around the head of Harry’s cock in the next second, wrenching a deep groan from the back of Harry’s throat. “Okay?” he asked, pulling off just enough to get the word out.

Goose bumps erupted across the skin of Harry’s inner thighs at the sensation of Ben’s warm breath over his cock. He nodded.

Harry hadn’t touched his cock at all earlier when he’d prepped himself in Ben’s bed. He hadn’t been sure if Ben had wanted him to, but now he was grateful he hadn’t, because Ben’s mouth was around the tip again, warm and wet and gently suckling with just the right amount of teasing pressure.

Harry arched his back a little, breathing heavily as he struggled to keep his hips pinned to the mattress. Ben was practically…nursing him, like they had all the time in the world to leisurely draw out an orgasm. If Ben wanted Harry to come in his mouth first and then again on his cock…well, they really didn’t have time for that, but Harry would try anyway.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Meri murmured from somewhere to their left.

Harry whined at the praise, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. Ben pulled off to huff out a laugh. “Still so easy for it, aren’t you?” he said, a bit mockingly, and that just made the coiled knot of heat lodged at the base of Harry’s spine burn hotter. “Bet we could talk you into coming without laying a finger on you, hmm?”

Harry nodded eagerly as he opened his eyes to find Ben’s face hovering centimetres above his own. “Please,” he begged, half-out of his mind already, just from this.

“Maybe another time,” Ben replied softly. He dragged a gentle finger lightly down the bridge of Harry’s wide, triangular nose.

Harry shivered at the promise of more. Of another afternoon like this. “Switch?” he suggested. “Please.” They only had so much time, and Harry wanted the opportunity to actually enjoy having Ben’s cock inside him for as long as possible. He’d been waiting for this for years, after all.

He allowed Ben to help them move into place again, this time with Ben on his back and Harry straddling his hips. Harry’s hard cock hung heavier now between his thighs, dragging across the soft skin of Ben’s stomach as they shifted positions.

“Meri?” Ben said suddenly, and for one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought that he’d changed his mind.

But no, Meri was just moving closer to pull a condom out of the drawer on the nightstand before moving around behind Harry to help Ben put it on.

Harry could feel her hair tickling the base of his spine as she leaned forward, the ghost of her hands moving only centimetres from the prickled skin of his arse, and then the warmth of her fingers gently stroking over his sides.

“He’s ready for you,” she said, leaning in to practically whisper the words into Harry’s ear, making him gasp.

“Need you to—” Harry tugged one of Ben’s hands against his hip, settling into the fingers gripping the softer flesh there as he braced himself with his left hand against Ben’s sternum. It gave him enough stability to lift up onto his knees and reach behind him to angle Ben’s dick against his hole, already wet and open from his earlier preparation.

_Like a girl_ , Harry found himself thinking, the thought coming unbidden once again to the forefront of his mind as he eased Ben inside himself.

First times were overrated, Harry realised as he slowly sunk down onto Ben’s cock until his arse was flush with the older man’s thighs. Right now, dizzy from the feeling, the novelty of it all, he couldn’t think of anything better, but that was just because he didn’t have anything to compare it to. Harry and Ben had known each other for years, but they didn’t _know_ each other inside and out, and suddenly Harry wanted nothing more than for the chance to learn.

Harry rocked down experimentally, grinding his hips in small circles as he accustomed himself to the feeling of Ben inside him. It hadn’t been long at all since the last time he’d had sex, since he’d had someone in him, stretching him, but there was always something thrillingly disconcerting about it, like his body could never quite get used to the intrusion.

“Okay?” Ben asked, thumbing delicately at Harry’s hipbone.

Harry nodded, dizzy with the sensation, and surged up and down with a loud gasp. His cock was even harder now, sticking out straight in between them, and Harry reached for it with his right hand only to have Ben’s fingers circling his wrist before he could get a hand on himself.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Ben asked. He didn’t seem apprehensive about the idea of touching Harry’s cock again, but rather genuinely concerned with finding out what Harry liked.

Harry nodded. “Like this,” he directed, guiding Ben’s hand against his stomach, trapping his cock between them. He’d long-since learned how unpleasant it was to have his cock flopping around while he was riding someone, and the friction of Ben’s hand against him was just enough to work him toward a controlled orgasm as he rocked down onto Ben’s lap.

But Harry’s energy started to flag just as he reached a plateau, where he could feel the pressure inside him building and building and going nowhere. His thighs burned from the effort of lifting himself up off Ben’s cock in a steady rhythm, and he could feel his pace slowing down.

He’d thought that being on top would be faster, that he’d have more control this way, that Ben wouldn’t be able to tease him, but after the strain his body had just endured during the last two nights of tour, Harry was too worn out to maintain the effort needed to come.

It would have been easier to give in and wrap Ben’s hand around his cock tighter, so he could fuck up into his fist and get off like that, but Harry had always felt more satisfied after coming virtually untouched, with just the hint of pressure against his cock, enough to push him just over the edge.

Instead Harry peeled Ben’s fingers away from his dick with a pained whimper and flopped down gracelessly onto the older man’s chest, feeling an answering groan as Ben’s cock shifted inside him. Ben’s freed hand latched automatically onto Harry’s other hip, gripping him tight enough to leave a mark.

“You need a break?” Ben asked. Harry could feel the way the older man’s muscles were tensed with the effort of trying to stay still under him.

“He needs you to fuck him,” Meri replied before Harry could, reminding him again that she was still there, watching them.

Harry wondered if she could see now the way that he was stretched around her husband’s cock, if she’d filmed him from behind so that Ben could watch it later, see how he’d speared Harry open and filled him up the way Harry had wanted him to since they’d first met.

Harry whined at the thought, shifting unconsciously to hump against Ben’s stomach and feeling Ben’s hands tighten around his hips in response.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, baby?” Meri cooed. “Want Ben to take control? Give you what you need?”

Harry nodded, mouthing messily at Ben’s collarbone. Every bit of tension flooded out of him at Meri’s words, leaving him totally at Ben’s mercy as the older man lifted his feet to get a bit of leverage against the mattress.

The first thrust of Ben inside him punched the breath right out of Harry’s lungs. He writhed at the feeling, almost causing Ben’s dick to slip out of him entirely. Ben, in response, let go of Harry’s hips and instead wrapped his arms around the younger man’s narrow waist, keeping him trapped as he fucked up hard into Harry’s body.

It felt like Harry was being used, like he was just a cock-sleeve now for Ben’s pleasure. The dick hammering inside Harry was coring him open, giving him no time to catch his breath between the heavy pistoning thrusts.

There was a slick wetness under where Harry’s cheek was resting against Ben’s chest, but he couldn’t tell if it was his tears, his snot, his saliva—maybe all three. Maybe Ben was fucking him so hard his whole body was leaking from every orifice and he was about to explode from the overwhelming pressure of it all.

He was sobbing with it, or screaming, maybe—he couldn’t tell. There was a hand tangled in his hair, yanking—gently at first, and then harder—until finally Harry was coming, spilling in between his and Ben’s chests, hard enough that his balls ached with it and his hole clenched around Ben so tightly it _hurt_.

The hand in his hair, Meri’s hand, was gone, leaving only Ben’s arms around him as he rabbited up into Harry’s oversensitive body. He couldn’t feel Ben coming through the condom, but he could tell he was there when his thrusts got harder, the pace slower now that it felt like Ben was trying to force himself as far into Harry as he could get.

Finally, Ben went limp, collapsing against the bed with a sigh as his arms fell to his sides. Meri was there in the next second to keep Harry from rolling off in the absence of her husband’s hold on him.

“You need any help?” she asked Harry, but it was Ben who answered for him.

“I got it handled,” he said tiredly. “Start the shower, maybe?”

“Sure.” She lingered long enough to press a kiss against Harry’s sweaty forehead, where his curls were stuck to his skin. “You did so well.”

He was too out of it to answer her, but the feeling of Ben’s hands gliding across his back was slowly bringing him back to reality. He mumbled something that might have been words against Ben’s neck, and the older man laughed.

“I hope the wait was worth it,” Ben murmured, too quietly for Meri to hear from the washroom.

Harry bit him. “You still owe me four years of orgasms,” he replied, voice shot. He hoped he could pass it off as post-show hoarseness at the event.

Ben laughed and carefully tugged Harry up his body, finally allowing his dick to slip out and covering Harry’s little gasp with his mouth. “You okay?” he asked, between each soft press of their lips together.

“Are you?” Harry countered, unable to keep the cheekiness out of his voice even in the midst of their post-orgasm haze.

“Never been better, love.”

 


End file.
